sidekick man rides again
For those of you who were worried that Sidekick Man had retired from superhero-ing, fear not. He’s just been on the lam, outsmarting the fiendish weasels at the RIAA.
The story of the epic struggle with the RIAA goons will wait for another day. First, the happy ending. Every June, Portland turns into Pedalpalooza, a month-long frenzy of everything bikey. Man, I love this town. There are bike parties, bike-in movies, bike jousts, and of course plenty of bike rides. The latter run the gamut from serious rides over the West Hills, to costumed rallies (if you’ve ever wanted to ride dressed as the Dude, or as a zombie, or as a hooker, this was your chance), to, well, completely un-costumed affairs.
Fortunately for families, there were plenty of kid-friendly to-dos, like safety lessons, neighborhood rides, and so on. Of particular interest to the pixie, who loves all things shiny, was the opening parade. She dressed as Super-Pixie-Princess (I may have the order wrong on that) who was, ironically, Sidekick Man’s sidekick.
I awoke that morning to a bike festooned with duct tape and pom-poms (lots of funny glances on the road and on public transit), somehow got through a day of non-parade-related activities, and met the gals on the train platform after work. We fueled up at our favorite Euro-kiddo-coffee shop and then took our positions near the starting line.
Man, there was every permutation of bike configuration, number of riders per bike, costume theme, and attitude. There were clownishly tall jousting bikes, recumbent tandems, Harley-esque cruisers complete with ape-hanger handlebars, pedi-cabs, unicycles, and stuff that I don’t know the words for. It was awesome, and surprisingly organized for a Portland event.
I had thought we were just doing a little parade around the block, but we hauled booty all the way across town. Motorcycle cops leapfrogged us and blocked traffic (thanks, guys!). We arrived at the finish line—well, finish park—took a quick survey, and raced back to the west side in time for espresso (of course). A cape really does make you faster.
The thing I love about Portland is, you don’t have to explain yourself when you’re wearing tights and a cape, riding a pompom bike, and towing a similarly costumed henchgirl. That’s just a normal day here. Who needs secret identities?